


New Year, Old Love

by TwinFlames99



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angsty romantic mush, But it's pretty obvious from the first sentence where this is going, Catelyn and Ned are married, Cheating adjacent, F/M, Kinda, N plus A equals J, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Regret, Second Chance Romance, but kinda, but not really, first fic, lol is that thing?, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 01:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinFlames99/pseuds/TwinFlames99
Summary: When Ned Stark stays behind in Winterfell for the holidays, encouraged by his wife to think about the unhappy state of their marriage, his thoughts are interrupted when he receives a call out of the blue from the one who got away.
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	New Year, Old Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> So, I've kind of fallen in love with the notion of these two and they won't leave me alone unless I write about them, so here we are.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be a little new years drabble and then it just kept growing and growing into this beast with another chapter on the way.
> 
> Comments and constructive feedback are welcome.
> 
> This is unbetaed so all the mistakes are mine alone.

Ned Stark had never considered a divorce. Not that it was even truly on the table. But when Catelyn suggested they take some time apart before departing with their five year old son, Robb, to spend the holidays with her family in Riverrun, divorce seemed the natural conclusion and Ned didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Divorce wasn’t a big deal anymore, especially amongst the elites of Westeros. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for two people from well to do families to only stay married until their heir was born, then immediately break up. Robert and Cersei had done just this. Not even a month after Ned’s godson and Robert’s heir, Orys, was born, Cersei filed for divorce and moved back to her family’s estate at Casterly Rock. Robert had not been bothered by the breakup. The union had been a powerful one but the hatred between the two was mutual.

But Ned disliked this idea. No matter how difficult or unwanted, Ned Stark always did his duty. And that applied particularly when it came to his wife. His beautiful, perfect wife who just wasn’t perfect for him. Who had never been meant for him because she had been meant for Brandon. Everything he now had, was supposed to be Brandon’s. His title as Lord of Winterfell, his position as CEO of Stark Industries, his wife and even his son. Ned had imagined a very different life for himself, one where he would run the King’s Landing office as Brandon’s second. One that included her. 

But then the car accident happened and Ned found himself in possession of a company, a castle and a bride. 

Ned had actually been surprised to find out about Brandon’s engagement to Catelyn years before. Male primogeniture hadn’t existed in Westeros in hundreds of years. Even in the North it was extinct, his home region so resistant to change. Yet some Lords still chose to disregard their daughters’ claims to their empires. In Tully’s case, he had passed over two older daughters in deference to his only son. Considering this, Ned shouldn’t have been surprised when Hoster Tully not only accosted him at the airport on his way to the funeral, insisting he honor Brandon’s agreement to marry Catelyn but also lied and manipulated Ned by guilting him into it by thinking that Tully had sunk considerable money into stabilizing Stark Corp. 

Ned sometimes felt like smacking himself over the head for not verifying these claims before caving to Hoster Tully’s demands to wed Catelyn. But by the time Ned found the previous contracts his father and Hoster Tully had negotiated stating that it was in fact Stark Corp that had saved Tully from financial ruin, he had already wed Catelyn and Robb was on the way. 

Ned loathed Hoster Tully for manipulating him at what the man knew was a vulnerable time but he also knew it didn’t matter. The man was his good-father and his son’s grandfather. Hoster Tully had already gotten everything he wanted. No amount of hating the man would change that. 

So Ned had continued forward. Surprisingly, he had adapted to his roles as CEO and Lord of Winterfell quite easily. The company was earning a generous profit and the people of Winterfell were well looked after. Though he had no political power as Winterfell’s Lord, he worked in close concert with the mayor to see that the people’s interests were always in mind. Ned had often been cajoled about running for mayor himself but he had no interest in politics. 

It was one of the many topics he and Catelyn argued about. His lack of ambition, as she called it. But more likely, Ned suspected it was his lack of wolf’s blood, the wildness that had been so innate in Brandon, that irritated his wife most. Where Brandon had been charming and wild and fun, Ned was solemn, quiet and boring. 

Sometimes, Ned could feel her probing, searching desperately for any sign of her beloved Wild Wolf. And everytime, Ned fell woefully short of being able to provide it. Ned had hoped that they would find common ground after Robb was born and they had. Ned was proud of the co-parenting relationship that had blossomed between them over the years. But romantic love had remained elusive. In truth, he and Catelyn were more roommates than husband and wife. This wasn’t surprising. Brandon’s ghost still hung heavy over their union. 

And Ned still dreamed of laughing purple eyes. 

So, it wasn’t a complete surprise when after their latest argument, Catelyn made her suggestion.  
Lyanna had tried to convince him to spend the holidays down in King’s Landing with her and Rhaegar’s family but Ned had declined. The Targaryens were known for their lavish New Years parties and Ned had no such taste for it. He disliked crowds. Hated parties in general. And a southern one would be all the more unbearable. 

But mostly, he’d said no because he needed to think. Ned was still torn. He had never viewed his marriage as a choice. Whether they’d wanted to or not, he and Catelyn had sworn a vow before the Gods to stay wed til death. Ned felt it was their duty to see to the oaths they’d sworn each other. He’d always seen divorce as a thing for fickle, dishonorable people. Not him. Not Ned Stark. Once he made an oath, nothing could compel him to break it. And it would be the same for his marriage vows, he finally decided. 

When he and Catelyn spoke after the holidays, he would tell her this and they would discuss ways to fix their marriage. 

Ned was brought from his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. Perfect timing. Catelyn had promised to have Robb call. He would tell her his decision now. Ned grabbed his phone and his heart stopped when he saw the name on the screen. Because it wasn’t Catelyn. It wasn’t the woman he’d married. 

No. It was the woman he’d let slip away. 

Ashara Dayne.

He hadn’t so much as uttered her name in the six and a half years since he’d had to say goodbye to her, the pain of remembering what they could’ve had far too great to bear. 

Unbidden, the amethyst eyes he sees every night in his dreams flash before his eyes. 

Ned stands there, paralyzed. Dumbstruck. He wasn’t sure how long he stood frozen, gawking at his phone but he was relieved to find the phone still ringing when he came back to his senses. So, he answered it. And immediately regretted not taking another moment to think on what to say. He grasps for something, anything but nothing comes out of his mouth. Then, he hears a soft chuckle. Gods, he’s missed that sound. 

“Well, that certainly sounds like Ned Stark’s breathing,” came the amused, Dornish lilt.

Ned tried to ignore the warmth that spread throughout his body. How his heart slammed inside his chest. “And how does my breathing sound?”

“Forthright and phlegm free.” 

Ned couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that slipped past his lips. “You pay me far too large a compliment, my lady. I simply cannot accept such lavish praise.”

“On the contrary, my lord,” she said, adopting a haughty, aristocratic tone. “I find it crucial to always praise a man with abilities to limit the sheer volume of phlegm in the world. Tis truly a gift.” 

They dissolve into a fit of giggles, at the resurgence of their old game. He remembered hours spent on the quad, between his classes and her rehearsals, mimicking conversations passersby might be having in the voices of their old Lord and Lady ancestors. It was completely juvenile, of course. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. “Hi Ash.”

“Hi Ned.”

“How are you? How’ve you been? Wait, is something wrong? Is…” His eyes go wide in panic as he realizes she might actually be calling for some urgent matter. 

“Ned! Stop freaking out and Breathe.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s ok. I appreciate your concern, of course. Everything’s fine. I just...Well, I’m actually in Winterfell.”

And just like that, the ground disappears from beneath his feet. His heart stops. His lungs explode. “What?”

“Yea, well...what was supposed to be a two hour layover has turned into a nine hour layover and well, Lyanna mentioned you were staying in town for the holidays and gave me your number so I figured we could catch up? Maybe get a late lunch?... Or a coffee?.... Or if you just don’t want to, I’m assuming because you’ve gone completely silent…”

Ned hadn’t realized his brain had frozen along with the rest of his bodily functions. Shit. “I’m sorry. I just...You’re here? Truly?”

She chuckles at the disbelief in his voice. He can’t help but notice the note of relief in her own. “Yes. I’m here. But honestly if it’s too last minute…”

“No! Of course I want to see you, Ash. A late lunch would be great. Just give me an hour?”

“Yea! Just tell me where to go.” 

After hanging up and sending her the directions, Ned raced to change out of the ratty sweats and t-shirt he’d been wearing for the past two days. After getting a whiff, he realized it was also necessary to shower. And trim his beard. And my Gods did he need to wash his hair. Shit. 

He raced to make himself presentable, wondering why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like she was actually his ex. Sure Ned had had feelings for her but they were just friends. Old friends. Who’d had sex. A lot of sex. But it was always just casual. Right?

An hour later, as Ned sat in a booth at Turnip’s Tavern arranging and rearranging the salt and pepper shakers and fiddling with the menu, pretending not to watch the door, Ned could not deny the giant ravens flapping around his gut, feeding off his insides. This was not how he usually felt when meeting up with an old friend. 

As the door opened once more and he saw her for the first time in over six years, Ned Stark’s heart stopped yet again. Because there she stood. Tall and graceful and beautiful as ever. Her long black hair haloed by a small dusting of snow as those enchanting violet eyes swept the room until they finally found his. The smile that spread across her face at the sight of him was enough to jump start his heart once more. 

As they embraced, Ned could hardly believe she was here, in his arms. Too soon, she leaned away, still smiling and Ned was secretly glad that she didn’t immediately step away from his grasp. Instead, she glided her hand over his cheek, goosebumps forming in its wake. “I like the beard. Suits you.”

“Yeah?” He could feel his cheeks reddening.

“Mmhm.” She stepped away, sitting across from him. After a long moment of studying each other even more, she grabbed a menu, all but hiding her face behind it. “So what’s good here? Meat pies and game stews, I assume.” 

“Yes, the pigeon pie is especially good,” he joked. He kept his face straight as her menu collapsed onto the table and she stared at him in horror. “Or there’s rabbit stew. Very hearty. And we could share a meat jelly as an appetizer to balance it out.” At this, Ashara’s eyes grew wide, looking like she might actually vomit. He cracked, unable to hold in his laughter any longer.

“Not funny,” She said, smiling as she swatted him with the menu.

“I don’t know, the burgers are good. They have a steak dinner that I prefer.” At this, she playfully rolled her eyes as if saying, ‘of course you do.’ “Their three bean chili is excellent," he continued. "They even have some pretty good salads. And the ale, of course, is a must.” 

“How could I forget the ale?”

He gave her time to study the menu since he already knew what he was getting. He didn’t mind waiting. It gave him time to study her. She hadn’t changed much. Her hair was slightly longer and she walked with the slightest limp, he knew must be a result of her fall. But not much else was noticeable beyond that. He blushed when she caught him looking but thankfully she didn’t say anything. After placing their order, she’d decided on a burger and fries with a side salad, they started to catch up. 

As she spoke, only mentioning the accident that prematurely ended her dance career, Ned noticed how she slows her speech, choosing her words carefully, editing out what she doesn’t want to say as she tells him of that fateful performance and the aftermath. He’d heard the story, of course. It was a balcony scene, though not so romantic as Romeo and Juliet. 

In this ballet, her character had lost everything and the routine required her to dance along the ledge of a tower as she contemplated suicide. Yet, when she jumps, instead of falling, she goes flying through the air, enchanting the audience. Only that time, her harness snapped and she fell instead, plummeting to the ground, shattering her knee and her lifelong dream. 

The thing Ned had hated the most about Hoster Tully’s manipulations was not being able to be there for her, knowing she was in pain.

Of course he understood why she wouldn’t want to go into detail about that but even still, he felt that there was more going unsaid. As such, he was not surprised to see the same look of scrutiny on her face as he dodged talking about the immediate aftermath of Brandon and father’s deaths or his marriage to Catelyn, referencing them only in vacant platitudes he knew she saw straight through. 

He wasn’t surprised by how quickly they seemed to pick one another apart. They were never very good at hiding from each other. Just great at ignoring what was already there. Now, he was more sure than ever that there was never anything even remotely casual about them. 

As they talk, long suppressed memories flood his mind. The weight of her head on his chest as they lay in bed. The feeling of her warmth against him as he drifted off to sleep. 

The first time she whispered, ‘stay’ after a bout of lovemaking, barely above a whisper and dripping with fear. 

He remembered the rare days when she didn’t have practice and he didn’t have class and they’d laze about one of their apartments all day. Fucking and eating and sleeping. Only to wake up from a nap and do it all over again. He remembered thinking in those moments, blissed out and full on grilled cheeses, that nothing had ever been more perfect. 

Then, it all came crashing down when Lyanna called. There had been a car accident. And suddenly, he was the head of House Stark, the family company, the Lord of Winterfell. Almost as soon as he got off the plane, Hoster Tully was yapping in his ear. Ned wanted none of it. Just the girl. But all the while, Rickard Stark’s mantra of duty and honor pounded in his ears and Ned realized it no longer mattered what he wanted. Only what he must do. 

So he transferred from KLU to Queen Alysane’s University, switched his major from architecture to business and married Catelyn. He stitched together the wounds grief and heartache had caused and paid them no mind until he convinced himself they’d never been there. 

The only time he felt them pulse and bleed, felt the stitching in danger of ripping was when she called. He’d stare at her name, blinking on the screen, the pain he’d stuffed down crawling to the surface threatening to choke him. He knew that if he answered, if he heard her voice, he would crack. He wouldn’t be able to pretend with her, as he could with everyone else, she would see it and he would be done for. So, he sent a pathetic message straight to her voicemail explaining what had happened and went on ignoring her calls. Every single one. Until she stopped calling altogether. 

A ringtone draws him from his thoughts. He looks around, shocked to see how much time has flown by. The sun is long gone from the sky.

“Shit. I meant to...I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I have to go. My flight…,” she apologizes, biting her lip. He didn't understand the hesitance, and guilt he saw on her face. He patted her hand reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Do you have a car or…”

“I took a cab here. Shit.”

“It’s okay, I can drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Ned.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a slight smile as they walked from the restaurant only to be met by a gust of wind swirling with white. While they had talked for hours, a heavy snowstorm had swept in, making the town a winter wonderland. But one that made it difficult to see even three feet in front of him.

“I think your layover may be extended.”  
\---  
What was usually a fifteen minute drive back to the castle took nearly an hour in the snowy abyss that had descended upon his hometown. In between her wait times while on hold with the airline, Ned had discovered that 1) Ashara did not have a hotel because her layover was supposed to be so short and 2) every hotel in the North was booked either because of the holidays or the weather. Therefore, it was decided, despite her protests, that Ashara Dayne, the girl who got away, the woman he dreamed of almost every night and quite possibly the love of his life, would stay with him until the storm passed. No problem. 

Years had passed since Ned had thought of bringing Ashara home to Winterfell and showing her where he’d grown up. Yet Ned could not deny the effect seeing her here had on him. The sight of her inspecting photos of his son, whom he had once dared to hope would be hers, portraits of him smiling beside a woman with flaming red hair and blue eyes instead of her black hair and violet eyes. It all felt so monumentally wrong that she would be on the outside observing his seemingly happy little family, smiling vacantly and telling him how beautiful they all looked instead of being a part of it. At the center of it. 

A quick caress of his hand, brought him out of his thoughts. Brooding, as she used to call it. In the small, slightly teary eyed smile she gave him he saw his feelings reflected and saw her push them aside as a knowing smirk landed on her face. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, the Starks of old would be very disappointed in you for not boasting of the marvel that is the great Winterfell castle, Lord Stark.”

He chuckled. “My apologies, my lady. I’m being a terrible host. Please do forgive me.” He held out his arm, which she hooked her hand through.

“Mayhaps, my lord. Better be a hell of a tour.” She smirks and he chuckles.

“Only the best for you, my lady.” 

He got to give her the tour of his childhood home he’d always wanted to, indeed boasting of his roots. He was surprised by how much she already seemed to know, putting in comments and asking questions on theories as to how and why Bran the Builder had constructed it this way. After one such comment, spewing the theory that the crypts help magic that would reawaken the old kings of winter to protect Winterfell in case the white walkers, which the Builder believed in enough to build the long fallen Wall, he turned to her, shocked.

“Perhaps you should be giving the tour. How do you know all of this?” 

At this, she blushed, refusing to meet his eye. “I may have become unhealthily obsessed with Northern architecture after we met,” she says, somehow blushing even further. 

But he understands. “Aye, I recall spending hours watching informational videos about ballet and trying to master piroettes.” Instead of the laugh he’s hoping to draw from her, he watches as her eyes fill with tears. He grabs her hand. “I’m sor…”

“It was real, wasn’t it? I mean, I know I said it was just sex and we never really talked about being more but…”

“Aye, it was real. I think it always was.”

“Yea.” She nods, and squeezes his hand. He squeezes back but the gesture isn’t enough to halt the tears, so he draws her into a hug, holding her close as her tears fall loose upon his neck, his own mingling with her hair. The moment is broken by a loud grumble that causes them both to freeze, then dissolve into a fit of giggles. She wipes at her face, half mortified. “Oh, Gods.”

“I know what that sound means. Come on.” He leads her back to the kitchen. Upon realizing the storm was in full force, they had ordered a bunch more food to go. As they eat, he can’t help but notice how natural it feels between them. Even after six and a half years, immense pain and an emotional moment it all just...flowed. He stared at her in disbelief once more, that Ashara Dayne was in the North, in his home, sitting across from him at his dining table. And it suddenly occurred to him that he has no idea why.

The guilty look she gets when he asks confuses him and it’s gone so quickly he’s unsure it was truly there in the first place.

“I don’t know if you know, but I’m a writer for The Times now. When I went back to school after my accident, I got my degree in journalism. I’ve been working there for a few years now. Jeor actually mentored me himself.”

Ned did know this. Not only had Jeor Mormont been a good friend of his father’s, under his leadership, the Times had warded off any notion of becoming irrelevant. Despite several newspapers popping up over the years, the Times had managed to maintain its reputation as one of the most prestigious papers in the country. Not even a recent scandal involving Jeor’s son and the former Deputy Editor in Chief had managed to sully the paper’s credibility. As such he read the Times every morning and had since he’d returned North. A few years following his return, he’d seen a byline by Ashara Dayne and literally spit his coffee out like in the movies. Since then, he had hunted for her name in every issue of the paper and every article written by her was carefully preserved in a folder specifically for that purpose.

He simply replies, “Aye, I heard. Do you like it?”

“Yea,” she said smiling. “I love it, actually.”

“That’s amazing, Ash.”

“Yea, well, after the whole Jorah fiasco, a lot of people needed to be moved around, which is code for promoted or fired, and I was one of them. Promoted I mean. You’re looking at the new senior editor of features.”

“Oh my Gods, Ash that’s amazing.”

“Yea, it is. I was the junior editor down at the King’s Landing office, so it was a natural step. I just came here to finalize some paperwork with Jeor before he headed off to Bear Island for the holidays. It was supposed to be super quick, in and out but…”

She motions vaguely toward the ongoing snowstorm. He smiles, thrilled for her, happy she found another career she could love like she loved dancing. 

Then, suddenly something occurs to him. “Wait, you said senior editor. Don’t they all…”

“Have to work from the main office? Yup. I move up here in March.”

And his brain short circuits. “You...”

“I’ve started apartment hunting. Only online though. If you have any tips, let me know.”

“I…?” He can’t blame her for the amused chuckle he hears escape her. But suddenly, the mood changes, becoming serious. She grabs his hand, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself for something.

“Ned there’s something…” Whatever she’s planning to say is interrupted by her phone ringing again. She looks at the display, studiously avoiding flashing the screen towards him. “I need to take this. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She stares at him for a moment longer, the phone still ringing, until he gets it. “Oh, right. Of course, sorry.” 

He collects their plates and exits. As he deals with the dishes, he doesn’t truly pay attention to what he’s doing. His mind is too full. Ashara Dayne will soon be living in Winterfell. Not far away where he doesn’t have to confront the life he left behind but within the 500 mile radius that makes up his hometown where he might bump into her anytime anywhere, possibly with Robb. Or Catelyn. Shit. 

When he finishes, he makes his way back towards the dining room, only to find she’s still on the phone.

“I promise, my love. I know, I’m sorry. I love you too.” 

Ned felt his heart drop through his toes at the realization. She is with someone, in love with them. A jealousy he has no right to roars up as he desperately tries to squash it back down. He has a wife and kid, they hadn’t been together in years. Yet, the feeling wouldn’t go away. Perhaps that’s what she had been preparing to tell him. That she was moving here with a boyfriend. Or a fiancee. Or a husband? He hadn’t seen a ring but...Oh Gods. Just then, she turned around, the guilty look back on her face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...so you’re seeing someone,” feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel.

“What?”

“I...That was your boyfriend? Have you been together long?”

“That wasn’t my boyfriend, Ned. That was...my son.”

“Son...Oh, that’s...I didn’t realize... I bet you’re a great mom.” 

“Thanks.”

“How old?”

She stares at him for a long moment, throat bobbing as she hesitates to answer. “He just turned six a couple days ago,” she whispers.

At this, he frowns, the pieces not fitting together yet. He started counting backwards in his head. They had always said it was casual, but during those last couple of months, she had admitted she wasn’t seeing anyone else. Had she lied? Or… “He...you…Ash, what...”

“He’s yours, Ned. His name is Jon.” He’d barely comprehended what she had said when he noticed her handing him her phone. The background, a photo of her and a little boy with raven black curls and his eyes. “I wanted to name him Vorian or Alaric after my grandfather but he came out looking so damn Northern.”

Her attempt at a joke was lost on him as he continued staring at the photo, his mind frozen in shock. “That’s why I called you. With the move coming up, I figured I should tell you myself instead of you figuring out in the school pick up line or something shitty like that. I...There was no one else. From the night we met, there was never anyone else.”

Alongside the shock, Ned felt anger bubbling to the surface as he glared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve…”

“What? Called? Yea, I tried that.”

Shit. She’s right. Because she had called unrelentingly for nearly a year. It was him who’d never answered. 

“I know I should have told you sooner and I know it’s not fair to you or Jon that I kept you apart for so long but the way you left...you broke my heart, Ned. I know you didn’t mean to but…” her forlorn sigh says everything her words can’t. “And then I broke my knee and I lost everything. I called and called and you never answered. It was pretty clear you’d moved on. He was all I had. I had to put myself back together for him and I would not have been able to do that if I had to face you.”

He looks back down at the photo. He’s not sure how much time passes before he nods. “I understand.” He didn’t. Nothing made sense anymore. “Thank you for telling me.” Unsurprisingly, she saw straight through him. 

“Ned…” She stepped forward, reaching for him at the same time he stepped back, relinquishing her cell phone. Before she could utter another word, he stumbled from the room.

Everything that happens next is a blur until he reaches his destination. The Godswood. No surprise there. He distantly registered the sound of her voice trailing after him then fading. He remembered giving instructions to someone though he couldn’t remember who. He felt the blast of cold air and the cold droplets as he waded through the snow, the moisture seeping through his shoes. 

He sat, staring up at that impartial face as he’d done so many times before. He thought of all the times he’d prayed to the Gods that it was all a dream, that he’d wake up and have his father and older brother back, wake up to her flowing black locks instead of red hair or an empty pillow. He cursed his life for taking a turn he had never wanted or asked for. He had resented Lyanna and Benjen for leaving him alone with the weight of their family’s legacy on his shoulders. Scoffed at their supposed pack. And he cursed the Gods. So many times in the earliest days he’d cursed his Gods for saddling him with the responsibilities that were meant for Brandon. For taking the only thing he’d ever wanted. For ripping him away from her. 

But it wasn’t the Gods’ doing, was it? Because everything he’d wanted had been at his fingertips, vibrating in his hand as her name flashed across the screen time and time again. The life that he had wanted, had yearned for, had mourned, had been calling to him, literally calling and all he had to do was answer the fucking phone. But he never did. 

All the times Lyanna had tried to lure him down south but he had kept to his self imposed exile. He had shunned her, had shunned Ashara and inadvertently, he had shunned his son. Jon. He supposed he should blame her. Heap the many injustices he felt onto her instead of at his own feet. Maybe then it would all hurt less. 

But, in truth, he knew the fault lay only with him. Because even if he had answered the phone, even if he had known about Jon, Ned knew he would still be right where he was. He would’ve talked himself out of his own happiness, steeping his decision in honor and duty, still too naive to understand just how cold honor could be, how lonely duty could feel and that sometimes they aren’t enough. Duty and honor were still important, aye. But these last six years had taught him a hard lesson. No man could survive on duty and honor alone. He needed...more. 

He had had more. She was more. But he had taken her for granted, thinking what they had was so easily replaceable. What a fool he was.

Only as the sun was rising did he think he had done quite enough wallowing for one night. As he stood up, he noticed that at some point someone had replaced his wet socks and shoes with proper snow boots and laid heavy blankets across his shoulders, bundling him from the cold. He suspected Poole. He’d have to remember to thank him. But only after he got some sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t meet anyone on the trek back to his chambers and immediately collapsed on his bed, still swaddled in the blankets, not even bothering to take off his boots. 

As he so often did, he dreamt of black hair and purple eyes. Only this time, the hair was curly and the purple eyes faded to grey as a child’s laugh played on a loop in his ears. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he finally jerked awake. After a quick shower, he did indeed manage to find Poole but the thanks was unwarranted. According to the castle's steward, the Dornish woman had insisted on changing Ned’s boots and draping him with quilt upon quilt. 

Her care and kindness in the face of realizing how carelessly he’d tossed her aside all those years ago only made him feel worse. But he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He remembered times when he’d been stressed over some test or presentation only to receive a silly text to relax him. The times when she knew he’d had a shitty day and he’d find his favorite Northern beer stocked in her fridge and her cupboard bursting with his favorite snacks. She had always taken care of him. Why would now be any different?

As Ned made his way to the chambers Poole had housed her in, he was instead drawn to the kitchen where peels of laughter sounded from. He was shocked to find Old Nan seated at the kitchen table, laughing over old photo albums with none other than Ashara. She gasps when she sees him, gleefully turning the photo album to show him pictures of himself. As a baby. In the bath.

“Nan! No!,” he exclaimed, mortified.

Ashara burst out laughing. Old Nan waved away his embarrassment, holding out her hands for him to help her up. He immediately obliged. She patted his cheek lovingly. “You were a handsome boy.” Then, she shuffles from the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. 

“It’s not her fault. I asked to see them. I...I wanted to see if Jon looked like you when you were his age.” Ned looked down at this pronouncement, still ashamed of his past actions. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Aye. Thank you. For the covers and the boots.”

She shrugs. “Wasn’t gonna let you freeze. I have a surprise for you,” she announces, pulling him toward the couch.

He is surprised to see his personal laptop sitting on the coffee table. He frowned at this, glancing up at a now sheepish Ashara. “I stole it from your office. No password. Tsk, tsk.” Then his computer comes to life and all he sees is their son. His breath hitches.

“I thought...I downloaded all the photos and videos I have of Jon on my phone to your laptop. I thought you might want to watch them?” 

His eyes stayed glued to the screen as he nodded. She pressed play and he was transported. Every laugh, every word spoken in the childish voice enchanted him.

The hardest to watch were the ones taken when he was still in the hospital. Too small with tubes and wires sticking out of his tiny body. She explained he was born premature. He should’ve been there. The birthdays are difficult also. He loved seeing his son happy but hated how much he missed. 

He notices a lot of photos and videos feature a silver haired girl who looked suspiciously like a Targaryen, playing with Jon and made note to ask Ashara about her. At some point, she had wandered off. He wasn’t sure how much time he spent watching and rewatching the videos now stored on his computer. Only that the sun had gone down by the time the video he’s watching suddenly snapped off and he realized his laptop battery was dead. 

Ned carried his laptop to his office, where his charger was still plugged in by his desk. He also found Ashara there, thumbing through the signed, limited edition collection of blueprints and architecture notes by Jon Arryn, his favorite contemporary architect. He couldn’t help but smile watching her do so. She gave him that book. It was the best gift he’d ever received. When she saw him, she returned his smile, snapping the book shut.

“Sorry for snooping,” she said, not looking sorry at all. She turned the book’s cover so he could see. “You kept it.”

“Of course I kept it. It’s amazing you found an autographed copy of it in the first place.” At this, she looked away, a blush forming on her beau- on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, just...I may have under-exaggerated some things about that.”

“Oh.” In truth, he’s not really surprised, mentally smacking himself for ever believing that she happened to stumble upon a coveted, autographed book by his favorite architect in a second hand bookstore. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

She snorts. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because telling you that I not only spent an ungodsly amount of money bidding on said book but also basically stalked your favorite architect to get him to sign it kind of would’ve undercut my whole pretending it was just casual sex thing.”

“But why didn’t you tell me the truth?” From the way the smirk falls from her face, he knows she can tell what he’s asking this time. He half expects another sarcastic response, her old branded cynicism about how love is bullshit. 

Instead, she wraps herself in her arms, almost shielding herself. When she looks at him, her eyes are unbearably vulnerable. Haunted. It reminds him of the few times back then when her walls were down and he could almost taste those three words he’d yearned to hear on the tip of her tongue. But every time, she swallowed them and raised her walls, separating them from each other once more. This time, she speaks instead.

“I was scared, Ned. I’d never felt that way about anybody before. I thought that if I could control it, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. And we were so young. I thought...I thought we had time. I thought we had forever. I figured, at the end of the day, a year or two of keeping you at arms length would just be a drop in the bucket. I didn’t know that was all we’d get.” 

He nods, understanding. Then he squares his shoulders, preparing himself to meet her honesty with his own. “Aye, I understand. It wasn’t easy. I know that probably doesn’t make it any better but...walking away from you, from us was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s fine…”

“It’s not. I just...I wanted to answer the phone. I did. I just, I felt like if I answered the phone, if I talked to you, if I heard your voice or if I even heard you breathing on the other end...I couldn’t... I’d already lost so much and not having to face you made it easier to pretend that I hadn’t really had to give you up too. I had to pretend, Ash. I was barely holding it together as it was. But that meant that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me and I wasn’t there for Jon and I’ll always regret that. I’m so sorry for that. I’m so sorry.”

In a flash, she takes him in her arms, hugging him with all her might. And he hugs her back. He isn’t sure how long they stand there but when they disengage, they barely do at all, only separating enough so that she can brush away the tears he hadn’t realized had fallen down his face. Noticing her own tear stained cheeks, he does the same. 

This touch feels just like it did six years ago. In that alleyway. And just like then, his eyes feel like magnets, drawn to her own through a force greater than either of them. And just like then, she tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear, her hand never leaving his face as her thumb grazes the outline of his lips. He remembers what happened next. In that alleyway where they began. He knows he’s not supposed to want history to repeat itself. He knows he’s supposed to respectfully step back and offer his apologies. But for the life of him, he can’t remember why. Can’t remember why he’s subjected himself to more than six years away from her. Needs to find out if her lips feel just as soft as he dreams most nights. If her hair still feels like the finest silk when tangled in his fingers. If the feel of her clutching him close to her still sets his blood boiling. 

He feels himself lean forward and his heart races when she does too. And for the first time in six and a half years, he kisses Ashara Dayne. 

It doesn’t last long. Merely a second. But it feels perfect. Unbearably right. They study each other for a long moment. Each searching for some sense of regret or guilt. When neither finds any, they lean in once more. 

But just as their lips touch, her phone rings.

They jump apart. Blushing, she reaches for it with a muttered apology. Followed quickly thereafter by a surprised “oh” as she reads something on her screen.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yea, my...my flight’s been rescheduled for ten tonight.”

“Oh.” Ned can’t help the feeling of disappointment that descends upon him. The disappointment is followed by an awkward silence. Neither of them knows quite what to say. He knows he should apologize but he can’t bring himself to. He’s not the least bit sorry. 

It’s an odd sensation, in truth. He’s never done this before. Been the least bit unfaithful to Catelyn. No matter how strained or unhappy their marriage became, he’d never even entertained the thought of cheating in any capacity. He’d always held himself to a higher standard than that. A more honorable standard. 

And yet, if Ashara let him, he knew he would kiss her until it was time for her to leave again. All he wanted was to drag her back into his arms as he’d dreamed of doing countless nights and hold her there forever. But when he glanced back at her, he knew the moment had passed.

“You should eat something. I can’t have you leaving here on an empty stomach. Northern hospitality and all.”

“Do we have time?”

“We should. Your flight leaves in four hours. The airport is usually a thirty minute drive but in these conditions, I say we leave at least an hour and a half to get there. I say we leave no later than eight, so that gives us about two more hours here.”

She smirks at him. “Well, when you put it like that. What’d you have in mind?”

“Grilled cheese.” The suggestion is out of his mouth before he can think through the implications. He can’t help the blush that spreads across his face and he notices her own cheeks pinking up as well. It’s not surprising. Grilled cheeses were always their post sex snack.

But still she nods. “Alright. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a proper grilled cheese.” The wicked look that flashes behind her eyes tells him she’s well aware of the innuendo. He almost growls, attacking her lips with his once more. But he stops himself. He holds out his hand instead. His relief when she takes it is palpable as a calm spreads throughout his body. 

As they cook, there are many more casual caresses, electrified grazes and borderline wanton touches. They both participate in this dance, knowing how little time left they have to just be. He knows they’re getting too close, too intimate, but the idea of stopping now hurts more than he knows saying goodbye will later. So, they continue on.

It’s incredible to Ned, truly. He finds himself astounded by the lack of awkwardness or tension. In fact, he feels completely at ease, more so than he has in years. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for six years straight, locking up his entire body in an effort to hold everything in, to keep himself from shattering. But with her he can just breathe. And when he does, he doesn’t fall apart. 

Sure there are more scars than there used to be and every now and then he tenses up out of habit. But her very presence relaxes him within moments. As they eat, they sit perhaps closer than need be, her knee settled on top of his thigh, both of them leaning into the other as they scarf down their sandwiches and watching the Great Westerosi Baking Show holiday episode. She insisted and he admitted he’s a fan as well. Yet he misses half the episode stealing glances at her and revelling in the domestic scene they’ve set, in the warmth that spreads throughout his entire being just sitting here beside her watching TV. 

It’s a feeling he hasn’t truly felt since he was a child. He feels utterly content. Peaceful. 

The small smile she shoots his way one of the million times she catches him staring at her during the episode tells him she just might feel it too. 

But all good things must come to an end. And so after they finish eating and the show ends, she goes to collect her things and they make the slow trudge out to his car. As they draw ever nearer to the airport, the air between them begins to shift, growing tighter and tenser by the second. Until it becomes unbearable as they finally pull into airport parking after over an hour of driving. Their impending goodbye suffocates them both. He’s not ready. So as she begins to speak, unbuckling her seat belt, he unbuckles his own. “I’ll walk you in.”

“You don’t have to. Stay in the warmth.”

“I’m a wolf, remember? The cold doesn’t bother me.”

She merely rolls her eyes, allowing him to grab her carryon and accompany her into Winterfell Airport. Though Ned has always preferred this small airport to the larger Northern ones in White Harbor and up at Eastwatch by the Sea, he curses its minuscule size. All too soon, he finds he’s gone as far as he’s allowed to accompany her without buying a ticket. 

Admittedly he thinks about it for a second, wondering if it’s too late to take Lyanna up on that offer just to spend a few extra hours with her. But that’s ridiculous and he knows it. So, he regrettably hands her her bag and they stand awkwardly together for a moment. Then, she surges forward, wrapping him in a tight hug, placing a careful kiss on his cheek. She looks back at him.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He knows she’s talking about Jon. But he can’t help but wonder if perhaps… No, about Jon is all this can be. So he simply nods.

“Bye Ash.”

“Bye Ned.”

He watches as she marches down the line and out of sight, not looking back. Ned marches from the airport, almost mechanically. He drives away in his empty car and arrives back at his empty house and goes to sleep in his empty bed. But his dreams are full of her, all purple eyes and black hair. And when he wakes, it’s to the all too familiar feeling of regret. 

The next morning he wanders into the kitchen to find Nan eating her usual breakfast. A hardboiled egg and a bowl of oatmeal. Ned joins her silently, settling for a bowl of cold cereal and a slice of toast.

“Is your young lady gone, then?”

“She’s not...Aye, she left last night.”

“Pity. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you so happy.”

“If I were less polite I might point out that you can hardly see now.”

The sharp tap she lands on his knuckles with her spoon is all the answer he needs. He chuckles, knowing she’s not truly offended. As if to reinforce his thought, she cups his hand in hers, tugging gently so that he looks at her. “I may not see everything anymore, my Ned, but I do see some things. And I see those things very clearly.”

With that, she gives his hand one last pat and continues eating her breakfast. Unsure what to say to that, Ned simply does the same.  
\---  
A few days go by before he calls Lyanna, angry after remembering that Ashara had gotten his number from her, which likely meant she knew about Jon, for Gods know how long, and didn’t tell him. But Lya being Lya doesn’t take his bullshit. From her yelling, he discerned that she had only known for a few months and had practically been begging Ashara to tell him the entire time. If he hadn’t been avoiding her and everyone else, he might have found out sooner. Then promptly hung up on him. 

He tries calling her to apologize but she didn’t answer. So he texted her instead. He thinks about texting Ash as well. But he’s still not sure what to say. A few more days go by before he wakes up to photos she’s sent of Jon opening his Yule presents. The last of the batch is of both of them by the tree, drinking hot chocolate with big smiles on their faces. Ned can’t help but picture himself sitting beside them. 

For the first time, Ned really allows himself to fantasize about what could have been. About waking up beside her every morning. Holding her hand through both her and Jon’s surgeries. He imagines the fights they doubtless would have had and the makeups too. Maybe they would’ve had more children. A daughter, perhaps. He’s always liked the name Arya. And he imagines the future. Getting to know Jon and watching as his boy came to know and trust him. He imagined Jon and Robb getting to know one another and truly becoming brothers. 

When he's not dreaming of what could have been, he actually manages to get some work done and he talks to Robb. He and Catelyn exchange little more than pleasantries. He does go through with sending a simple ‘Happy New Year’ text to her. He smiles when she responds almost immediately. 

For the second time in two weeks, he travels to the airport to pickup Robb and Catelyn. He can’t help but squeeze his son - his younger son - as tight as possible. He’s missed his boy. Catelyn accepts a quick peck on the cheek and Ned finds he doesn’t mind in the least. 

As Robb describes in vivid detail his adventures over the last couple weeks and he chats with Catelyn, he can’t help but compare it to the drive with Ashara. He can’t help but notice that all the relief he’d felt seems to have leached from his body. That he once again feels like he’s stumbling along in shoes not meant for him. They spend the rest of the day as a family. He manages to push these feelings aside to enjoy his reunion with his son yet errant observations subsist on the fringes of his consciousness. 

After they’ve put Robb to bed for the night, he and Catelyn spend only a moment together alone as she reminds him they still need to talk. Then she retires to her bedroom. Later, as he tries in vain to drift off to sleep, he truly parses through his feelings, something he hasn’t done in far too long. He soon realizes, somewhat pained, that he didn’t really miss his wife these past weeks. Ned thinks through the day, remembering how the only affection she lent him came when one of her friends spotted them out at dinner or the park. Yet when they vanished, so did the show of affection.

It was not the first time this had happened. Whenever they were out or hosting an event, Catelyn would preen and fawn all over him, stroking his beard or fixing his tie. She would brag about how well he was running Stark Industries and had even become a mentor of sorts to her younger brother Edmure, the heir to Tully Corp. Thinking back, that is what he truly hated. The lie of it all. Because he knew Catelyn didn’t think he was good at his job. She often insisted he was too much of a pushover in his business dealings. And he had spoken to Edmure Tully all of two times in his life and certainly could not be considered a mentor to the boy. 

But after every public display of affection and perfect happiness, in private, he was left with nothing but cold. In private, there were no gentle touches, no adoring gaze. More than anything, Ned found himself just unbearably tired at the thought of having to continue this show for the rest of his life. 

These thoughts were still rattling around in his head when they met for lunch on Wednesday, agreeing that they would postpone their talk until Robb was settled back at school. She began talking about what they should do going forward but Ned found his mind beginning to wander. He already knew what he should do. That had never been the problem. It was what he would do that had him stumped. What he wanted that he couldn’t figure out. And whether what he wanted even mattered anyway. 

Eventually, he stopped listening to Catelyn altogether. His mind wandered, inevitably to her. Ashara. To the night they met. 

\--- - ---

Though his birthday had already passed, Elbert and Robert had surprised him in King’s Landing under the guise of officially celebrating his 21st birthday by taking him out for a legal drink. He knew it was horseshit. The three of them had flown down to Dorne when they turned 18, since it was the only province in Westeros that allowed drinking at eighteen instead of twenty one. But they had somehow managed to drag Bran along so he allowed them to drag him out to a club, knowing it was more of a gift for them than for him. 

The first time he saw her, he was enchanted. She was across the room dancing with some friends. The way she moved to the music was hypnotic and he found he couldn’t look away. Eventually Brandon noticed his preoccupation with her and dragged her halfway across the club to dance with him. 

He was mortified but he was surprised by how nice she was about it. He could feel how stiff and awkward his dancing was but she never laughed or scolded him. She simply led him through it and as the moments ticked by, he felt himself melting into her touch, warmth spreading throughout his body. Then, just like that, she slipped away like smoke through his fingers and he felt the loss of her keenly though he had just met her. 

He noticed how suddenly parched he was and went to go get a drink before returning to where his friends were. But he couldn’t focus on their antics anymore. He touched where her hand had been in his and he swore he could still feel the residual warmth. He pressed his hand to his chest and realized how fast his heart was beating, so he decided he should get some air. 

He stepped outside gulping down the air until he tasted it and remembered he was in King’s Landing, not the North, and sputtered the putrid, shit smelling, and apparently tasting, air back out his lungs in a series of hacking coughs.

He only noticed he wasn’t alone when a hand appeared in his periphery holding a glass of some liquid. He looked up to see who was offering only to find the same girl smirking down at him. The club had been too dark to see her eyes. Violet eyes, alive, dancing with more amusement than even her face held. He felt he could lose himself in those eyes forever. 

He did eventually manage to mutter a barely coherent “thank you” before gulping down the drink he discovered to be ginger ale. A misnomer, Ned had always thought. The girl leaned back against the wall, propping her foot up as she studied him for a long moment. Ned squirmed under her attention searching for something to say.

“I’m sorry.” 

He could not blame her for the confused and questioning look that crossed her beautiful features. “I offered it to you.”

He shivered as the words washed over him. The husky voice with a Dornish lilt, if he was not mistaken, causing his hairs to stand on end. He shook his head, clearing it quickly. “Not for the drink. The dance. My brother shouldn’t have made you. I’m sorry.”

At this, she raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “If I didn’t want to dance with you I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh. Alright.”

He noticed that her foot had begun rather nervously tapping the wall it was propped against and he realized he might be making her uncomfortable. He was just about to excuse himself when she asked him his name.

“Oh, Ned. Ned Stark.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ned Stark. I’m Ashara. Ashara Dayne.” He smiled at this but looked up at the sight of a cloud of smoke passing in front of them. Ashara held out a vape pen.

“Want some? It might be the only time you can inhale in this city without getting a lungful of piss and sewage.” She wiggled her eyebrows enticingly, startling a laugh out of him. 

But he shook his head, no. “I don’t smoke.”

She winked, smirking mischievously. “Me neither.” But she left it at that. They settled into a comfortable silence yet their eyes did not leave the other’s gaze. Her laughing eyes suddenly molten pools, peering intently back at him. It felt like his entire body had become magnetized. That they were opposite ends of an invisible string and someone or something was winding them closer together. 

Suddenly, he found himself mere inches in front of her. Could feel the puffs of her breath as her breathing sped up to match his own shallow breaths and racing heart. 

He found his eyes continually drawn to her lips. She held the vape pen to his own, her fingers grazing his lips. And that was that.

He didn’t know who moved first but suddenly his lips were on hers, desperate and hungry, engaged in a different kind of dance. He felt her clutching him closer and he wanted the same, his hand venturing beneath her skirt. 

When her hand grazed his lower abdomen, past his belt buckle, sending a shiver up his spine, he felt cold realization wash over him. They barely knew each other. She was probably drunk and possibly high, depending on what was in the vape. He couldn’t do this. Especially not here. In some dirty alley. Not like this. 

“Wait. Shit. Sorry.”

She chuckled, to his surprise.“For what this time, Ned Stark?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did you not like it? Do you not want me?”

He blushed at the question. “Aye, I did. I do.”

She frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I just...I think we shouldn’t do this here.” 

He would never forget the tenderness with which she tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear. Nor the salacious gesture that followed as she traced his lips with her thumb whilst humming in thought. 

“But I didn’t ask what we should or shouldn’t do. I asked what you want to do. What do you want, Ned Stark?” 

He heard the question echoed as his attention returned to this room, his wife now calling for his attention. He refocused on Catelyn but still the long ago question rang in his ears. 

What do you want?

What do you want?

What do you want?

What do I want?

“I want a divorce,” he announced finally sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Next and (probably) last is Ashara's POV of their past relationship and what happens next.


End file.
